


The Apocalypse Goes Off-Script

by letmegeekatyou



Series: Off-Script Apocalypse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 08:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2540345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letmegeekatyou/pseuds/letmegeekatyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is at Stanford, Dean's deal happened earlier than it was supposed to, Cas is human, and the end of the world is nigh.<br/>(1st person perspective ONLY in the frame--1st and last--chapters)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> For my one year blogiversary on tumblr, I asked everyone to vote on what they wanted to see in a short blogiversary fic. Things rapidly spiraled out of control, and the first part (which I'm publishing now, on sastiel day, because reasons) is twice the length the finished fic was supposed to be. I'm very grateful to everyone who voted and has inspired me over the last year+ with prompts and headcanons and their own fics, and I very much hope you all like what I did with your prompt so far. I promise I will post part two for you by Christmas, since the first half took me so long.

My name is Charlie. Well, sometimes it is. Probably the one you know best, but I have kind of a lot of them. I mean, when you spend ninety percent of your existence basically just writing adventures other people get to actually live, sometimes you wanna get out there and have some yourself, you know? That's how Charlie came to be. But, um, I have another name, and it's one you probably don't like so much?

Yeah, okay. I'm Metatron. But NOT that douchetastic wannabe you're probably thinking of right now. I know he'd let people believe he's, like, God's one-and-only, but he is very much not, and you better believe he is going to regret all the shit he's pulled when I get back up there. He was the one who wrote out the instruction manuals; I'm the one who keeps track of human lives. Some traditions call me the Recording Angel. Basically, everything you think you know about me? About all of us? It's not quite what you think. You're in for some surprises.

Anyway, when I'm not playing hooky, my gig is pretty sweet. I watch humanity, and I write down their stories. And this one... This one is a little weird. Like, I probably should have run it by the big man when I realized what was happening, but it's not like he's easy to track down, you know? So here it is. I'm giving it to you guys, and you can decide what to do with it.

This is the story of a seal that broke really freaking early and people who weren't where they were supposed to be when it happened. Like I said, it's a weird one. But hey, it's also a love story, and who doesn't love a little romance?

Sam Winchester wasn't supposed to die. Well, not yet. We think maybe it happened because he didn't have his guardian angel with him, but in any case, it happened. Wasn't even a hunt, just a virus. Landed him in the hospital, and John left Dean with him while he went to Bobby's to get supplies in case it wasn't natural, 'cause duh. What are the odds of a Winchester dying of natural causes?

Sam was just a couple months from leaving for Stanford. Dean was basically still a kid himself. So when Sam stopped breathing, when the green lines on the monitors went flat, Dean panicked. Of course he did, all alone with his little brother dying, raised on nothing but “watch out for Sammy.” Not saying it's the best decision Dean ever made, but when a nurse pulled him aside and asked what he would do, what he would give to save his brother's life, makes sense that he told her he'd do anything.

It's not like they'd been super close, not the last few months anyway. With Stanford looming over them and John totally refusing to talk about it, things had been tense. But this was Sammy. He'd been looking after the kid his whole life, so what was he supposed to do? It was the only thing he was fucking good at, the only thing that mattered. He didn't have a chance to be anything in life, but Sam did. He just needed another chance. And what did Dean need his soul for, anyway? Wasn't like he was using it. Or at least that's what he thought.

I'm gonna level with you. Heaven was pretty pissed about the whole thing. I mean, yeah, they had seen the apocalypse coming—it is Heaven after all. But not for, like, years. This was way faster than they planned. That was when they started to think that maybe the Winchesters were going to be a problem.

Sam recovered, miraculously, but it didn't really change much. He and John still fought, Dean still tried to keep the peace, maybe even tried harder, knowing it's be just Sam and John on their own soon enough. But still, Sam went off to Stanford with no intention of coming back and no invitation to come back, either. Here's where things were different, where things get a little unexpected. Sam arrived at school on a Friday. On Sunday, Dean called. Just to make sure his little brother was settling in okay.

“Dad know you're calling?”

“Screw Dad,” Dean answered. “I wanna know if the California girls are as hot as they say.”

Sam shrugged it off. Big brother being overprotective, maybe a little sentimental. But Dean called again the next Sunday, too, and the one after. And Sam realized that all the bitterness and anger of leaving had let him bury the sadness and regret, and that he really missed his brother. And he was glad he kept calling.

He was also glad he had Castiel. Okay, let me tell you about this totally adorkable roommate of Sam's. First of all, not a sniff of wings or grace on the guy--probably should have been another red flag for us upstairs, but angel!Cas was supposed to throw a hell of a wrench in the apocalypse plan, so as far as the bosses were concerned, human!Cas was a bargain. Whatever was screwing around with the story did us a favor there, was the general consensus.

Cas was studying all sorts of weird shit, astronomy, philosophy, dead languages. The kid was a little strange, granted, but he and Sam got along like you wouldn't believe. Normal college kids close the bar; these two nerds closed the library. Kind of a lot. And if Dean was the one keeping Sam steady, Cas was the one moving him forward.

So, I guess that's all the backstory you need. Like I said, it's my main gig to write down human stories, so here's what I got on these two cutiepies, straight off the tablets, and I hope you don't mind if it gets a little flowery sometimes. What can I say, I'm kind of a romantic.

 


	2. Felix Culpa I

If you had asked them how they fell in love, neither Sam nor Cas would be able to tell you for sure. How does it ever happen? But there are moments... Sam might tell you about being there when Cas had one of those nightmares that would always leave him shaking. About helping him drown his sorrows in TV and pizza when he failed a test he knew he was prepared for, quizzing him before the next one, even though Cas sometimes laughed at his attempts to pronounce Old English.

For Sam, it wasn't something he had let himself imagine much, not after Amy, but Castiel made him want to set aside all the old fears and try, at least while he could, to live his life. Maybe it was possible. Maybe the life wouldn't come knocking again, and he and Cas could go on being happy. But even if it did, he would rather have taken this shot than given up his chance because he was afraid. Sometimes he thought he was being selfish, but let Cas convince him, with every smile and every encouraging word, that it was okay.

Cas might tell you about being there when Sam had been talking with his brother, and was suddenly, unaccountably homesick for a home he never had and needed someone to hold him and remind him that he was real. He'd tell you about being there when Sam wanted to go see the stars at two in the morning, and they were both giddy with lack of sleep because neither of them wanted to go home early. Not when the night was so beautiful and they were holding hands because why not? Nobody around to see or ask why, and it felt right. It just felt right. 

He knew he was odd in some ways. He knew he didn't interact with the world like most people, and for a long time, he'd been okay with that. But with Sam... he wanted to learn. He wanted to learn every one of Sam's expressions, every one of his smiles and frowns. He wanted to become an expert in being with Sam, just like he was becoming an expert in his classes. He couldn't think of anything more worth knowing than how to make Sam Winchester happy.

The first time Castiel kissed Sam, it wasn't under the stars or in the middle of the night or anything so romantic. It wasn't a particularly special day at all. They were sitting together on Sam's bed, textbooks out, Cas half leaning against Sam's shoulder while he went through his astronomy notes. He was juggling four differently colored highlighters that he kept dropping on the comforter so it was covered in tiny, neon bursts of color. And Sam sighed at some obscure bit of legal jargon, and Cas looked up at him, and they kissed. Cas said later that Sam kissed him, but Sam thought it was mutual.

They never had a long, angsty conversation about whether it was a good idea or when they realized they weren't straight, because it just didn't seem necessary. If John had known, if Cas's parents had been nearby, one of them might have wanted to hash it out and come up with some line, some argument, some piece of armor against the comments and questions they'd eventually face. But for now, it was enough to push aside the text books and lay down together, touching only at the lips, laughing now and then as their eyes met and sighing when Sam's tongue found its way into Cas's mouth, softly and comfortably. It was enough.

After, they held hands everywhere, and their friends were happy for them, and it was almost easy. It could have been easy, if it hadn't been for everything about to come down on top of them.


	3. Loss I

“Hey, man. You got a minute?”

“Dean, it's a Thursday. What's going on?” Sam got up from the desk and went to sit on the windowsill, looking out at the snow that had fallen overnight. His heart beat fast, and he wished Cas was there.

“It's not good, Sammy. I'm sorry to tell you like this, it's just I'm way out East, and you should know right away--”

“Just tell me, Dean. What happened?” The door opened as Sam was listening to the story. An easy hunt, shouldn't have been a problem. Icy roads, a collision nobody could have seen coming. John hadn't ever regained consciousness. Dean was calling from the hospital. They'd let him out in a couple days. Cas saw the look on Sam's face and came to stand beside him, wrapped an arm around his waist and let Sam lean on him. Sam closed his eyes.

“I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“Nah, don't come out here. Gonna have him shipped to Bobby's, we'll give him a hunter's funeral there. You don't have to come, I know you guys didn't really...”

“I'll be there, Dean. And I'm glad you're okay. I'm really, really glad,” Sam said quietly, trying to keep his voice steady so his big brother wouldn't worry about him.

“You okay, Sammy?”

“Yeah. I mean, not really, no. But Cas is here,” Sam answered. He hadn't really told Dean the whole truth about him and Cas, but it didn't seem to matter, not right then.

“Good. I'm glad you have somebody, Sam,” Dean said, and Sam realized that he knew, and it was okay. And that's when he finally started crying.

Cas held him all that night, keeping himself awake—he was good at that, kept the nightmares away—so he could be there if Sam needed him. Sam dreamed of the fire and his father standing over his crib, but he didn't wake up. Just wandered through dream after dream, fire and ice, his father and mother, blue light and wings, until he was too exhausted from walking to dream anymore, and he fell into a deeper sleep until morning. Cas drove him to the airport and kissed him before he left, kissed his hands and his forehead, his cheeks and his lips, enough kisses to carry him through. Sam had asked him not to come. He didn't want to lay all that sorrow on him, and Castiel argued, but he could never say no to Sam for long.

***

Dean and Bobby had taken care of everything that needed taking care of, so all Sam really had to do was be there. Hard enough to do that, though, and maybe it was worse with nothing to occupy himself with. The funeral was short and unsentimental, which Sam thought John would have appreciated, and after, Bobby left the boys in the yard with a six pack and told them not to stay up too late.

They didn't go to bed at all, both too anxious for their own reasons as well as their shared ones, but that was alright. They spent the night talking about old things, about playing superheroes when they were kids, about how hard Dad came down on them and how things might have been different if... Sam asked about Mary, for the first time since they were kids, and Dean told him, like he always had then, everything he remembered about her.

Sam wasn't surprised when Dean asked about Castiel, but he  _was_ surprised that there was no teasing in his voice. Maybe it was the beer or the funeral or maybe Dean was just tired, but he didn't make fun at all. He just listened, and Sam told him everything.

"Sonofabitch," Dean said when Sam was done. "You're gone on the guy."

Sam picked at the label on his beer bottle but didn't say anything. Didn't even look up until he felt Dean's hand on his shoulder.

"If he hurts you, I'll kill him. But if he loves you, man..." he shook his head. "You take that and hold onto it, you got it? He makes you happy, don't you dare let him go, or I will personally come out to California and kick your ass."

"Yeah," Sam laughed over the emotion in his voice. "I'd like to see you try."


	4. Between the Acts

If that had been the worst of it, it wouldn't have been worse than the ordinary heartache of ordinary people. But fate had been watching the Winchesters for a long time, and Sam felt it, knew that something else would be coming for him. It was just a matter of time.

Castiel was worried about Sam in the weeks after John's death. He was jumpy, less dedicated to his work. He called Dean more often, which wasn't, in itself, a bad thing at all. But it was new, and Cas worried that there was something he could be doing for Sam that he wasn't.

Sam started appearing in his nightmares more often. He'd had them since childhood, dreams about demons and angels, dreams about falling through battles that looked like the illustrations in his father's copy of  _Paradise Lost_ . Maybe he'd just seen the book at too young an age, and it had left a deep impression on his young mind. Maybe his life was destined to be so caught up in Sam Winchester's that something about what was coming bled through. Whatever the cause, he'd gotten used to seeing hellfire at night. What he wasn't used to was falling through those battle scenes, angels and demons flickering like burning paper to either side, and looking down only to see Sam below him, falling faster and faster, just beyond his reach.

He'd thought at first it was just because they saw so much of each other, although lately he'd suspected it was because of what Sam meant to him. Because he was falling in love.

Sam didn't seem to mind when Cas woke in the night and pulled him tight to his chest, possessive and protective. If he woke, he'd just burrow closer to Cas, kiss his collarbone or his cheek or whatever piece of him was closest, then fall asleep again. And Cas would wish he had something more than flimsy arms to wrap around Sam to keep him safe.


	5. Felix Culpa II

The end of the Spring semester snuck up on them both, distracted as they'd been. Their shared calendar was full of exam dates and due dates, and they flickered past each other during the day with occasional kisses and touches, reassurances and text messages, coming back to the dorm and sleeping in the bed they shared when they could, crawling into bed with each other late at night or at midday after an exam, hardly talking but giving and taking what they needed. Castiel thought that once this was over, they would have to talk. He would make Sam talk to him. Because he couldn't go on like this; wondering what was going on in his best friend's head that was weighing him down so much. He couldn't go on being an outsider in Sam's struggle. Not when he had fallen in love.

As sure as Cas had been for weeks, it was Sam who said it first. On the last day of exams, when he came back to the room to find Cas ready to go to the library, he dropped his bag and pulled Cas in for a kiss, holding him like he'd been thinking all day about this.

“I'm glad you're here, Cas. Really needed to see you.”

“Why? What's wrong?” Cas pulled back far enough to see Sam's face. He looked tired, but he knew they both did.

“It's nothing. I mean, exam week and everything, yeah, but mostly I just... I woke up alone this morning, and I was going to send you a text, and after I wrote it I deleted it because I had to tell you in person.”

“Tell me what?” Cas frowned, but Sam was smiling shyly, grabbing the front of Cas's trench coat and leaning down for another kiss.

“Just that I love you. I woke up and I wanted to tell you that I love you. It was the first thing I thought about.”

“Not your philosophy exam?”

“Nope.”

“Or your poli sci paper?” They were both grinning now, and Cas grabbed Sam's hair to pull him back down.

“Nah,” Sam answered, lips brushing Cas's. “Just you.”

“Good. Because I love you, too.”


	6. Dean

There is no good time for a debt to come due. There is no easy way for it to be collected. Dean knew that, and he thought long and hard about his goodbyes. No getting out of what he owed the demon, not that wouldn't put Sammy in danger. But he needed to see him one more time, needed to meet the mysterious Cas and give him a talk about how he better not break his little brother's heart. Needed to make sure Sam'd be okay when Dean was gone. And then he needed to disappear.

He planned to show up the week after exams ended, two weeks to go on his contract. Just long enough to hang out for a few days before getting as far away from California as possible, back somewhere where it'd be Bobby to identify him, not Sam. He drove the whole way with his heart in his throat, stopping now and again to sit on top of the Impala and take in the view, just long enough to let himself cry, get it out of his system, then keep moving. Gotta get that in check, he thought. Sammy doesn't need to see that. Doesn't need to know a damn thing except the stuff that Dad never told them before he kicked it. I'm proud of you. You're going to do great. I love you.

He said it in his head, and it sounded wrong, and he didn't know when he became a person who couldn't say I love you. He knew he'd said it to his Mom. Hell, he was sure he'd said it to Sammy often enough when they were kids. He stepped on the gas and wondered when it had gotten so fucking hard.

He didn't think too hard about when the last time had been he'd heard those words. Even after John's funeral, even when he put Sam back on a plan to the West coast, he'd just hugged him and told him to keep in touch, like the emotionally stunted asshole he'd apparently turned into. Couldn't blame Sam for taking his cue from that. Maybe he just thought his brother didn't want to have an emotional scene at the airport (he wasn't exactly wrong about that). But now he wasn't sure how to say it without it seeming like it _meant_ something, because of course it meant something, and he'd be damned if he'd let Sam catch a whiff of that.

***

Sam was surprised to hear from him, of course, but that was part of the fun, if there was any to be had on the farewell tour. Knocking his brother off base like that.

“Yeah, things were kinda quiet, so I thought I'd stop by and check up on my little brother,” he told him over the phone. “I'm outside your dorm, I think. You gonna come say hi?” He could practically hear Sam's bitchface, and he smiled. Glad he hadn't lost his touch in their time apart.

“Fine, come on up. But I'm not cleaning the damn room or anything.”

“Be disappointed if you did. Room number?”

It was a nice place, Dean thought as he knocked on the door. Kinda homier than he'd pictured. Maybe college wasn't so bad. If he had more time... But Sam was opening the door, and he grabbed his little brother for a hug before he thought anymore about that.

“When'd you get so fucking tall? It's only been a few months.”

“Been eating my vegetables. Just to spite you,” Sam said with a smile. Then they were distracted by a discreet cough behind them.

“Oh, right, yeah. Um, Dean, this is Castiel.” Cas was taller than Dean had thought he'd be, hair sticking up all over the place and clearly only just barely awake. Well, Dean's fault for showing up early in the morning. But Dean kinda liked him for not being a morning freak like Sam, and the kid was holding his hand out. Didn't seem nervous at all.

“It's nice to meet you, Dean. Sam has told me a lot about you.” Firm handshake, that's good. Dean glanced up at Sam, who was looking at them both nervously. Shit, he was really smitten.

“Likewise, Cas. Heard a lot of good stuff about you.” He pulled Castiel closer, ignoring Sam's warning look. “You hurt my little brother, and I'll make sure they never find your body.” He released Cas's hand and smiled. “We good?”

Castiel didn't back up when Dean let go. He just tilted his head like a curious dog, then smiled over at Sam.

“I like him,” he said. Dean laughed until he couldn't breathe, then he threw an arm around Cas's shoulders.

“Come on, I'm buying you kids some breakfast.”

***

In the end, the "I love you" wasn't all that hard. Maybe it wouldn't have been hard all along, if they'd tried it. Or maybe it just had to be the last one to work. He said it as he hugged Sam goodbye, just "love you, bitch," like it was nothing, and Sam had answered, "love you, too, jerk," and that was it. Dean drove forty miles before he let himself stop to cry.


	7. Loss II & a Call to Arms

There comes a point when you've been worrying so long that you almost forget about it. The anxiety sits in the back of your mind, buried under later happiness and ordinary life, hardly noticeable except for a slight unpleasant taste under everything. Sam wasn't sure why he'd been so worried to begin with; it was probably just being far away, thinking of Dean being on his own after Dad died, and that small suspicion he always had that the things that they had hunted would someday come back to hunt them instead.

But all of that had become quieter as the summer began, slow and hot and easy, with a few summer classes but mostly just him and Cas, sleeping in all twisted up in each other, waking up with each other's hands sliding over their skin and under their clothes. Waking Cas with a hand in his hair, laying open-mouthed kisses along the underside of his jaw until his boyfriend was whimpering and rutting against him. Or climbing slowly out of a dream to find Cas had disappeared under the sheets and was caressing his thighs, playing with the waistband of his shorts and just waiting for Sam to wake up and give him permission to pull them down. Eating outside every day, going for walks in the rain and the sun, reading and watching movies, telling jokes and saying “I love you.” It was a short paradise.

When Bobby called, Sam didn't even think to be afraid. He was standing outside the coffeeshop where Cas worked, ready to go in and see if he could get off early. His hand was on the door, and the sun was bright in his eyes, and he was tugging the door open, feeling a slight breath of air conditioning slipping out.

“Sam, I'm sorry to call with bad news, but it's really bad. Are you sittin' down?”

“Tell me.” Sam's mouth was dry.

“Dean's dead, Sam. I'm so sorry. I'd give anything not to have to tell you...” But Sam didn't hear anything else. Cas found him sitting on the sidewalk, staring at his phone. He looked about twelve years old, and Cas went cold at the sight. This was what Sam had been waiting for all Spring. And it was worse than either of them could have guessed.

That night, Castiel called Bobby, who had left half a dozen messages, to let him know he was looking after Sam. Sam insisted on being told what did it, and Bobby told him it looked like hellhounds, but he didn't know why. Didn't think Dean had had a contract, but he wouldn't have told him, probably, if he didn't have to. Sam said thank you and hung up the phone.

“Cas, I need to tell you something,” Sam said quietly, sitting on their bed in the dark—he didn't want the lights on. He was tired of light. California was wearing thin.

“You should try to sleep, Sam.”

“I can't. Because I'm going to need you, and I need you to know exactly what that means before we share a bed again. I have to tell you everything, so you can decide whether you're going to stay with me.”

Castiel was scared. This wasn't like Sam, this wasn't the easy way he'd said “I love you” or the careless way they'd first kissed or any of it. Sam looked very small and very young, and Castiel thought of his nightmares, how far away from him Sam always looked as they fell past the armies of Heaven and Hell. He climbed onto the bed beside Sam and took his hand so he couldn't fall too far away.

“Tell me.”

It took more than an hour. Sam told the story as though he was afraid to miss any detail, any moment that might influence Castiel's decision. He told him about the fire and how Dean carried him to safety, about the demon they had hunted ever since. He told him about Amy, about the Shtriga, about Christmases and the Impala and the amulet that he'd given to Dean, because his father was his father, but Dean had been more of a Dad to him than anyone else. He told Castiel about how hard he had fought to walk away from that life and every cruel and hard thing John had ever said to or about him. He told him that he knew there was something wrong with him, something not quite human, and he wasn't sure what it was, but it wasn't good.

Castiel said nothing. He held Sam's hand, and he took it all in, and he believed it. There was no reason he should, except that every once in a while Sam would say something, something small and inconsequential, like how he and Dean had carved their initials in the Impala, and Castiel would remember something, some piece of one of his nightmares, and he wondered if it was fate. If he was always meant to meet Sam Winchester, and he had been given the nightmares to make him accustomed to fear and to allow him to recognize his destiny when he held his hand and looked into his eyes.

When he had told Cas everything he knew about the past, Sam took his other hand so he was holding onto both of them, looking him in the eyes, and he told him why he couldn't run away anymore. Why he had to go back. He told him what a hellhound was and what they did, why they had come for Dean. He told him that his brother, his first and most devoted friend, was in Hell, and he was going to do everything in his power to bring him back.

“I need you to walk away now, Cas. Walk away, or you're going to be in this, and there's only one way out of it. Even if I save Dean, even then, the things that will be angry with me, with us, will never, ever stop hunting until they destroy us. Not just our lives but our souls, and I need you to understand how very real that is. I need you to--” weariness set into Sam's voice, and it broke, just for a moment. Because he was done telling the story he knew by heart, and now he had to start on the part he didn't know at all. “I need you to be sure if you decide to stay with me, because this is bigger than loving me or being together. This is bigger than being partners or married. This is your whole life and more I'm asking for Cas, and I know exactly how much that is. I hate myself for asking, and I never would, but I don't... I don't know if I can do this without you. I'm sorry, Cas, I'm so sorry, I--”

Sam sobbed as Castiel pulled him into a soft kiss.

“I'm yours, Sam,” he promised. “I would rather die helping you fight than live the rest of my life without you.”

That night was different. They'd made love before, slowly, quickly, sometimes rough, but this was something else.

Sam needed, and Castiel knew he needed, to know that there was something stronger than himself in this world that was good instead of evil. And Castiel could give him that, if he couldn't give him any other reassurance. He could hold Sam down, giving Sam everything he asked for until Sam could almost feel the heat of bruises forming, until he felt, just for a moment, just once before the start of the end of the world,  _safe_ . 


	8. Dreams

Cas's nightmares were different that night. He began on the ground, in the ashes of a battlefield, bits of paper fluttering around him with charred edges and the smell of blood and ink in the air. He stood, he walked, purposeful but not sure what his purpose might be, as the bodies of angels and demons materialized around him. A war had ended, but where were the survivors? There was something on his back, his bookbag, but it was so much heavier than it had ever been, as if every page he'd ever read was inside it, every word made of lead. It grew darker; he needed light, so he began to speak, and every word he spoke illuminated some corner of the battlefield.

But it had become a garden, full of grey and black flowers, and the old Latin passages that spilled from Castiel's lips were like bees, swarming the flowers and knocking the ash off of them. There were bodies here, too, but they stirred as if in sleep, and the grass under his feet began to stretch up his legs, toward his waist. Something was waking up. Something was hearing his voice and beginning to move after a very, very long time.

The ash from the flowers was starting to cloud his vision again, and the grass tugged at his legs. The papers in his bookbag were so heavy, and he thought about laying down. If he could just set it down--

But Sam. Sam needed him. For what? Something dark hovered around his love, something with teeth and claws that shone in the dark. Something that pursued him despite the goodness of his heart and the brightness of his soul. Something was coming after Sam. After both of them. Something that had already dragged Dean down to Hell, something that had to fight.

Had to fight. Something dark and dangerous was coming for them, and Castiel had to fight. He wrenched his legs free from the grass and shrugged against the weight on his back. He thought he might be shouting, but he couldn't be sure, the bees were buzzing so loudly, and the papers on his back were fluttering like in a strong wing, flying out from his bookbag in two massive waves behind him, unfurling like...

Like wings.


	9. Memory

Sam woke in the almost-morning light, and Castiel was not beside him. He could make out his shape by the window, but it was... wrong. All wrong. Castiel, but not...

“Cas?” He wished he had a knife under his pillow. For the first time in a long time, he wanted a weapon in his hand.

“Don't be afraid, Sam,” said a voice like Castiel's, but deeper and with a sound under it like wind. “I remember who I am now. I gave up my grace because my brothers were cruel and I did not wish to be one of them anymore. But I will take it back for you.”

“What are you talking about? Cas, you're scaring me.”

Castiel turned, and Sam realized that he had looked so strange because there was a faint blue light illuminating him, something with no source that he could see.

“I forgot, because I cut out my grace, but I remember who I am now, Sam. I'm an angel. And I'm going to save your brother.”

***

Sam wondered at first whether Cas was sleepwalking, whether the nightmares had gotten bad enough to push him out of bed. There was no denying, though, that his words  _felt_ true, and that frightened Sam more than anything.

Castiel turned from the window and went to the bureau to pull on a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. Sitting up in bed, Sam wrapped the blankets around himself because even though Castiel wasn't looking at him, he felt suddenly very exposed.

“Cas, are you... are you sure about this?” Sam frowned. “I mean, an angel? Last I checked they, um, they don't exist.”

Castiel smiled and ran a hand through his hair, which stood up just like his hair always had, and started making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Just like he always did after a night of really good sex.

“Yes, I am very sure. My angel memories were repressed after I rebelled, but they've returned now. It's kind of amazing, actually. Even though I didn't know who I was or who you were, I must have realized you were important and gravitated to you. But I was human, and so whatever feelings I had about you as an angel turned into... well, love.”

Sam took the half of the sandwich Cas offered him as he sat back on the bed. This seemed so... normal. But it wasn't. And if Cas fell in love with him because he was human, would that mean--

“No, Sam. I won't stop loving you now.”

“Are you psychic, too? Tell me you're not a psychic angel.” Cas laughed.

“No, just intuitive. Well, I'll be a little psychic when I have my grace back. But I know how you think, Sam, and I know how little you think of yourself.” He reached out to stroke Sam's hair, and Sam sighed and leaned into his hand. “I might not have been an angel when I fell in love with you, but I was myself. I am myself. And I will never, ever stop loving you.”


	10. Intermission

So, remember when I told you you were in for some surprises? Yeah, so was Sam. I mean, who could have seen that coming? He might have called Cas an angel a couple times, but he sure as heck didn't mean it literally. And where did that leave him, really? Because okay, cool, angel ally! Yay! But not quite, like, a full angel and also, was he still Sam's boyfriend? Because angels haven't been, y'know, known for their dating habits. Basically, Sam had more questions than answers and was hella confused. And we'll get back to him in a minute.

But first, I need to tell you about Anna. Because the way this was supposed to go? It should have been Anna who fell. I mean, that's what the prophet at the time wrote, but clearly something got screwed up along the way if Cas ended up de-angeled and earthbound, right? So what happened to Anna?

More angels rebel than you might think. Heaven keeps it kinda hush-hush, because duh, you don't want people thinking there are problems in a company with such a huge reputation. Not really good for recruitment, you know? So angels fell all the time, it just got hushed up. Anna was very good at hushing things up. She and Cas were two of the angels in charge of making sure the fallen ones didn't keep their memories, because that could be hella dangerous. All those ex-angels with knowledge of Heaven, but no loyalties, just wandering around Earth.

So Anna and Cas were both rebels in the making, that doesn't change no matter what AU you end up in. Cas thought he'd be able to fight the memory loss. Thought he'd been doing this long enough that he could get around it. But Anna understood that if she rebelled, she wouldn't remember it. She wouldn't be able to fight the system anymore. So in this completely messed up version of the story, Anna decided to stay in Heaven and try to take the whole thing down from the inside, and Cas decided to try to escape. Obviously, it didn't really work. I mean, he got out, but the memories were barely there anymore. That's why it's kind of amazing that he found Sam in the first place. I mean, yeah, they were destined to be part of the end of things, him and Sam and Dean and Anna, but it wasn't supposed to go this way at all, and definitely not so early, and yeah. Seriously, Dad has some shit to sort out when he gets back.

Okay, Cas is on earth, somehow falling in love with his destiny even though he doesn't realize that's what he's doing. And hearing Sam's story triggered everything coming back to him, which is pretty freaking cool, if you think about it. Like, Sam sharing his life with this damaged, amnesiac ex-angel managed to undo the undeniable, permanent work of Heaven and wow. That's some pretty sweet human heart mojo right there.

But Anna had been up in Heaven all along, and she knew. She knew the second Castiel remembered, because angel radio lit the fuck up. And she had to get to him first, because there was some shit going on in upper management, and he was a walking, currently mortal target for every ambitious angel this side of the seraphim. So, she's on her way like a bat out of hell, if you'll pardon the expression.

Grab your wands and silver and angel blades, everybody. The end of the world is about to begin.


End file.
